THE BATTLE OF ALLER HILL

by Marshal Homme-Cochon and Napoleon Birdaparte

 

Run #1905 Monday 21st February from the Smugglers Inn, Dawlish

 

HARES: Piltdown Man & Georgy Porgy

 

Through the river splash they thrashed with nostrils flared and bloodshot eyes - 'Death before dishonour!' was the rousing battle cry. Around a bend and there stood the author of their destruction..

 

SMUGGLERS ROLL CALL

Who wuz there: Piltdown Man, Georgy-Porgy, Shitfaced, Only Here for the Beer, Melonpicker, Cheerio-Beerio, Teapot, Wetfart, Beefy, Pisswell & dog, Big End, Well-Hopped, Ned, Broadshit, Able Semen, Coldtits, Bluebird, Man-Pig, Rambo, U-Bend, Check Mate, Smellie (recovered).

Who wuzn't: quite a few

 

CIRCLE UP

Numbers were down for tonight's run. I guess that this was due to the legacy of storms Eunice and Franklin. This was a shame as those who didn't make it missed an excellent little run. The wind had dropped and what could/should have been a wet and slippery run turned out to be pretty dry. The high winds of earlier in the day had dried out the trail nicely.

 

Despite low numbers, the pub car park was full.....on a Monday night in winter! I suppose the fact that it was half-term had a lot to do with it. Nevertheless, after a torrid couple of years for the hospitality sector, it was good to see a busy pub.

 

There were no virgins or returnees so straight over to the GM. Shitfaced was brief. The distillery tour has been rescheduled for late March (19th I think). This is due to the original date conflicting with the Six Nations rugby and, hence, a low take-up......4!

 

Piltdown briefed the pack on his and Georgy Porgy's trail. "There are some marks left over from a hash a couple of weeks ago. My trail was laid 3 hours ago. Do not follow old marks." The longs was just under 6 miles. I wasn't paying attention to the Shorts' distance but the Walkers were to remain in the car park. Ah....food. A choice of chips or cheesy chips.

 

PART ONE: DICK DASTARDLY RIDES AGAIN

Timing would be crucial, Man-Pig was not far behind. In full battle camouflage and lights out, the Bird dived to the left, executing a forward roll into the rough but rain-softened grass. With heart pounding, he waited. A few seconds later and a high-vis yellow jacketed figure coursed past but four feet from the tightly curled Bird.

 

Not far behind, BroadS was next followed by Big End, Well Hopped and Ned.

 

Still was the night and still was the Bird who lay motionless and yes, there he was, the great white shark, Beefy, starting at the rear and cruising up to the FRB's. With the longs plunging off-road onto the cliff path, the Bird hatched [Shirley sic] his cunning plan.

 

The Bird rose, phoenix-like from his concealment and fled the scene. ARGHHH! Another head torch appeared. Oh No, Oh Dearly Rumbled, a witness to the Dick Dastardly act. 

 

'You're going the Wong Wei!' did speak the apparition. It was Pisswell plus faithful muttley. Swearing her to secrecy, the Bird doubled back to the Smugglers Inn at a furious pace.

 

Breasting the rise Dawlish side of the pub, head torches were discerned peeling off into a footpath betwixt the houses. The Bird had made contact with the shorts and was about to ruffle a few feathers.

A cat amongst the pigeons, the fox let loose in the hen-house - Oh how cruelly treated were the unfortunate shorts when El Diablo Azul was released upon them. 

 

Convinced the trail went right through the copse, an almighty screech of rage emanated from that vicinity when a cross appeared.

 

At last encountering tarmac, the final nail in the coffin was choosing wrong at the check. Looking back, Man-Pig was seen legging it down the road and a naughty word escaped the frustrated lips of the befeathered One. 

 

But back to the beginning for now, Oh Dearly Beloved but never fear, I Shall Return in true Dougie style..

 

THE TRAIL ACCORDING TO MP

Despite lower than usual numbers, or maybe because of reduced numbers, the pack ended up being reasonably distributed across the three trails. As far as I could make out the Longs comprised: Beefy, Pisswell, Bluebird, Man-Pig, Broadshit, Big End and Well Hopped and Smellie (good to see Smellie back on the Longs and recovered from her bout of Covid. Also interesting to note that she'd donated her 100% reflective silver running jacket to Rambo - or do they simply go to the same shops?).

 

The Shorts appeared to be: Rambo, Melon-Picker, U-Bend, Cheerio-Beerio & Coldtits. The Walkers comprised the balance: Teapot, Wetfart, Shitfaced, Only Here for the Beer, Able Semen (apologies if I got this wrong as three Long-Short splits allowed the pack to mix 'n' match). I don't know which trail Check Mate was on. He usually runs with Smellie but I suspect that he wasn't on the Long - but I may be mistaken.

 

The first Long/Short split was dictated before we'd even started running. The Longs were to turn left out of the pub car park and head towards Teignmouth. Meanwhile the Shorts would be turning right out of the car park. The Longs did a mile loop around the coast path following the trail laid by Rambo last year for his 68th birthday. Bluebird went off like a shot. I couldn't touch him. Not far behind me was either Broadhshit or Beefy.

 

On arriving back at the Teignmouth-Dawlish main road, George Porgy directed us left before arrows had us crossing to the landward side of the road. We could see headtorches across the road, meandering through a housing estate. This proved to be the Walkers who had already got lost. Apparently they were already following the old marks from two weeks ago.

 

In the absence of new marks, the Shorts did their own thing. They dropped down into Dawlish and then made their own way back up to the Smugglers.

 

The Longs, meanwhile, joined up with the Shorts. Having crossed the main road the marks took us along South Down Road and then we followed a footpath across two fields. We began to catch up with the Shorts, first passing Coldtits and then Rambo. We could hear Bluebird in the distance. He had just exited the second field onto Oak Hill Cross Road where there was a check. The Bird went left....BONG! wrong. Everyone else went right, but not far.

 

After 400 yards, we came to a crossroads and a check. I had just passed Melonpicker and came across U-bend and Cheerio-Beerio in true seasoned hasher pose i.e. standing on the check and not going anywhere. With the Bird now somewhere behind me, the Pig decided to check out Aller Hill. This is a long steep downhill dropping into the back of Dawlish. 100 yards - no marks. 200 yards - no marks, but no-one calling from the check either.

 

I should have turned back but something kept me going forward....gravity! After 300 yards the first mark! "On one" but could they hear me back at the top of Aller Hill? Another 200 yards before the second mark "On two". It would be a long climb back if the next mark was a cross. 

 

Just before the ford at the bottom of Aller Hill, a third mark. I nearly missed this one as it was half way up the hedge. "On-On". Would the pack be able to hear me, now some 700 yards away? But wait. What was that? A call of "On-On" but from in front of me! Who on earth was in front of me? 200 yards later, I found out. it was Piltdown man using his new echo location technique to beckon Hashers down to the bottom of Aller Hill.

 

"Did you do the first Long" asked Piltdown.

"Yes", I answered.

"So you've passed the Shorts?"

"Yes", again.

"Where are they?"

"Still faffing around at the check at the top of Aller Hill". (see PART 2)

"OK".

 

With that Piltdown pointed to his left. This took us down a footpath, The Newhay, in what looked like a park with a lake. After, maybe 500 yards, we came to a Long/Short split. The Shorts went right through the graveyard at the back of a church. The Longs carried on to join Church Street and a check outside Newquay Close.

 

The obvious way would be to check right and join up with the Shorts. The Pig duly checked up Oak Hill, but nothing. Almost despairing, I returned to the check and checked out in the other direction....MARKS! A left and up Old Town Street for 100 yards or so before right and up Badlake Hill and, boy, was this steep?

 

By now the other Longs were beginning to catch up. I could see torches behind me and hear Bluebird whining about the steepness of the hill. Almost at the top, we came to a check at the junction with Meadow Park. 

 

Just behind the gardens of Meadow Park was another check and a footpath - the obvious choice. Off I went for 200 yards but no marks. And for good reason. After 200 yards the rear fence of one of the gardens had blown over in the wind and completely blocked the footpath. Returning to check I met Beefy running towards me. "Not this way", I said.

 

Back at the check, Beefy continued uphill and past a road called "The Humpy". What an excellent name for a road? Just past The Humpy, an arrow directed us right and onto a public footpath along the edge of a field. This was at the highest point of what could be construed as urban Dawlish.

 

Having crossed one field, we came to a galvanised steel kissing gate and entered a second field. Arrows, four of them, directing us diagonally across a large field with a downhill gradient. It looked strangely familiar. It was. We had run across this field on an Isca Roman Away day about 7 years ago. I had a good idea where I was.

 

The path across the ploughed field was quite distinct. After about 250 yards, we came to another kissing gate at the end of Commons Lane. The other Longs weren't too far behind us. At the end of Commons Lane, we were back amongst the houses and turned right along Hill Gatehouse. Then, on the left, a footpath that runs parallel with East Cliff Road. The old stone wall that forms the northern edge of the footpath had some shiny discs on it. On closer inspection, these turned out to be rock anchors - wall ties to stabilise walls.

 

This footpath runs downhill and behind Swallows Acre and High House Close, eventually terminating at Strand Hill. Strand Hill is quite impressive, it has vertical walls of rock 15 feet high where it has been excavated to create the road. A left turn and up Strand Hill for 50 yards before a right and down Mayflower Close. 

 

At the end of the close another urban footpath links it with The Drive. I think this is where Bluebird and Smellie got confused. With marks at the apex of a junction Smellie and Bluebird ended up inspecting the driveway and garage of some posh house rather than proceeding down the correct route - a Down-Down for the Hare would be the legacy of this misdemeanour.

 

At the bottom of The Drive, we were back on the A379 at the tight S bends just above the railway station. More arrows. Straight across the A379 and onto the footpath that loops around the edge of the old octagonal napoleonic fort, now new housing. Past the dope smoker and down to the station. The marks were pretty close together now. Along Marine Parade and then up and up and up cliff footpaths.

Looking back down into Dawlish we could see three headtorches just entering Marine Parade. This was Broadshit, Big End and Well Hopped - not forgetting Ned who wasn't wearing a headtorch.....not too far behind really.

 

At the top of the cliff paths, we entered a small park. On the other side of the park, Beefy and I rejoined what I'm guessing was the original Dawlish to Teignmouth Road. Ahead was Coldtits who must have been on the Shorts. Across a patch of grass and onto the A379 and the "On-Home".

 

It seemed longer than the 6 miles advertised, but Beefy's Strava was only reading five and a half miles. A really good run. Thank goodness the weather improved for the Hares. 

 

I did spend part of Sunday thinking, "The Hares will have their work cut out laying a trail in this wind". Well done Piltdown Man and Georgy Porgy. A thoroughly enjoyable trail.

 

PART TWO: A BIRD APART?

Napoleon Birdaparte assembled his troops at the crossroads. Casting caution to the winds, Marshal Homme-Cochon had charged way, way doon Aller Hill into the boondocks. With sabre drawn, his war cry was heard in the distance - 'On ONE' ... 

 

Meanwhile, skirmishers Wetfart and Melon Picker had been despatched to the right to search for clues. Very faintly, 'On two' carried back up the valley but some said it was a plaintive cry of 'On you'...

Numbers continued to swell the check and Birdaparte, astride a splendid steam-snorting white stallion, despatched a trusted sergeant to discover what unholy fate had befallen his errant Marshal. 

 

U Bend sallied forth and, as before, 'On one' was called. Gunner Big End enquired politely if anyone had checked left and duly pottered thataway to come to the aid of the stranded party.

 

By now, most of the expeditionary force had assembled and were getting restless. Both U Bend and the Man-Pig had been swallowed up into the Twilight Zone and something had to be done. 

Cometh the hour, cometh the Idiot:

 

'YO-OOOOOH! Allons-y mes amis, la mort ou la gloire!' And thus, into the valley of death rode the Teign Valley Hash.

 

Through the river splash they thrashed with nostrils flared and bloodshot eyes - 'Death before dishonour!' was the rousing battle cry.

 

Around a bend and there stood the author of their destruction - Piltdown Man with a sickly smile upon his face.

 

I shall (mercifully) not dwell long on the remainder of the trail. Suffice it to state that the wheels had come off the Bird's trolley (but then you always knew that, didn't you?) and he was reduced to a pitiful wreck from a once proud FRB. 

 

Petulantly did he sit in the middle of the road bemoaning his fate and exhorting the mercy of the gods on high.

 

No end of L/S splits hove into view and at each one did I tarry, hoping mayhap that my other companions would peel off so I could generously accompany them. I was decidedly the weakest link, but doggedly refused to hoist the white flag.

 

SM Ellie drew the short straw and accompanied the left leg locked flightless one back home. Thanks Ellie.

 

SMUGGLERS DOWNDOWNS

The unfortunate theme of Hard Times (1975) continued with the hash having to purchase the beer. Never mind, snug and cosy were we all, ensconced in our very own back corner of the pub.

 

Our RA Organiser had no need of any stories recounted to him on trail as he and Wetfart had a little gem to relate. Pisswell, on the long, comme d'habitude, made the mistaka of asking if Teapot and Wetfart were also on the long... BONG! Hashit Shirt awarded!

 

Next up, Beefy castigated Coldtits and the Bird for car park infringements but then proceeded to decorate U Bend with the Homing Horse Head Hat for being late for the circle!

 

Clutching the Baby Bat Hat (held over from the Nellie), the barely alive Bird - aided and abetted by joint sufferer SM Ellie - embarked on The Revenge of the Fallen (2009) singling out Piltdown for mark transgressions in some far-flung Dawlishean millionaires ghetto.

 

A gargantuan 900 Run Badge was last on the agenda and there Shirley could only have been one contender - kindly step forward Melon Picker!

 

Thank you and good night Josephine.

 

POSTSCRIPT

Quite an adventure and I am glad I endured the extended detour resulting from the Shaldon Bridge closure. I must tip my Bluebird cap to the hares for an inspired trail - even though I had to hobble round from half way. It weaved here, there and seemingly everywhere and I struggled to get my bearings on more than one occasion. BRAVO!

 

NEXT WEEK

Churston Court, Churston Ferrers. Hare is U-Bend. Bring your own food if you're a scoffer as the Court currently has no Chef!

 

It's goodbye from Man-Pig and goodbye from me.

ON ON mes amis!